A Strange Kind of Perfect
by DrivingParkedCars
Summary: Abby Mills never expected that when she came back to Harper's Island for the wedding of her best friend, Henry Dunn, killings would ensue- Nonetheless, that he was the killer, determined to live out his childhood dream life with Abby. Please read!
1. The Wish Of A Killer

**Quick little Author's Note: I don't own Harper's Island. If I did, this is what would have happened and (obviously) it didn't. So... yeah. Hope you enjoy. Please comment, I want your input, even if its "EW THAT'S NASTY! THEY'RE HALF-SIBLINGS". Because, trust me, by the end of the story you won't be saying that... mostly because them being half-siblings disgusts me as much as the next person.... Nastay. Hehe. Hope you like it!!!!!**

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Prologue:

He sat in the corner, his face turned toward the window, a window overlooking memories from our childhood, our development from early two's and three's to those awkward phases of the teen years, all leading up to now.

"Why?" I found my lips framing a question so simple, so easy, that the overbearing meaning behind it would have been almost unfathomable to a stranger had anyone else been here. But we were all alone. He had seen to that.

I had come to the island not even two weeks ago, picking up my suitcases and, from Los Angeles, shipping myself off to Harper's Island, where I grew up, where I had made memories with each passing day, some good and some bad.

My mother, for example, had been part of the bad, bad enough to drive me away from the island for a good seven years. She had been my idol, my role model, and the woman who I looked to for advice. She was my chief opinion, the voice that rang louder in my head than those of anyone else. She died here, killed by the knife of an ex-boyfriend, though infatuated murderer seems more the term to use, along with several others.

Henry had been my best friend through it all, comforting me when comforting was needed and shaking me awake when depression threatened to overcome me all together. He, in a way, had been my savior through those dark times. It was supposed to be his wedding now, the day of his marriage to the girl he loved, to complete his fairy tale ending. How could she be, though, if it was he who had killed her? He had killed Trish Wellington, his bride-to-be, the supposed love of his life.

In fact, it had not only been Trish, but the others as well. How many? I couldn't tell you, but he knew Wakefield, the man who had killed my mother, and had worked as a team with him up until Wakefield had told Henry to kill me. A command Henry recognized only by stabbing John Wakefield, his partner in crime, in the chest, thus killing him, an act that confused me to no end. Why kill Wakefield instead of me?

And now I was here, standing in my kitchen with no recollection of how much time had passed or what I had missed. Though, with everyone on the island gone but us two, it seemed impossible that I had missed much, or anything at all. Only things that had happened earlier, things that I intended to get the answers behind.

Henry took in a deep breath and turned towards me, messy tree-bark brown hair falling into his root beer colored eyes.

"I feel like I owe you an explanation," he said hoarsely, standing up from his perch on the windowsill.

"Yes, you do," I muttered, unsure of whether to run away from or to him, searching for that same comfort he had given me seven years ago. I did neither, choosing to stand stock still in the entryway to the kitchen, waiting for the story of what had really gone on while I was away. I was past fleeing; I needed to know it all. Everything.

He sighed and scratched the back of his head, shoulders slumped and face relaxed, "Do you remember what you said to me when we were little?"

"What?"

"You never wanted me to leave.... _I _never wanted to leave. You told me, that day by the boathouse; you said that you wanted it to stay just the two of us. That you wanted us to stay on this island together. Alone," He was smiling now, a sentimental gleam making its way into his eyes, "And now we can be, Abby, forever."

"But- but what about everyone else?"

"What about them?" He asked, but I could hear the crack in his voice, the regret that coated his tone, "I did what I had to do. Abby, I did everything for _us. _Can't you see that?"

"You killed them." I stated in monotone, the full weight of reality crashing down on me, "They're dead because of you."

"Abby..." He trailed off as if I wasn't understanding, as if he were talking to a child, "It's what had to be done."

"You killed my friends."

He sighed, "Yes, and I'm sorry for that but it was the only way we could be here, Abbs, just the two of us, like you said," He was pleading now, his eyes boring into mine before he pulled his head away sharply, his voice taking on a new note of concern, "Hey, are you thirsty? Hungry? Do you need anything?"

I shook my head, in awe of his nonchalance over killing people. My best friend, the man I had secretly loved all throughout my childhood up until high school, had actually _murdered. _And not just any random people, either. They were my friends, they were _his _friends.

"Y-you're not my friend," I hissed, "you're a monster," I growled, tears blurring my vision as I took off towards the front door, pulling on the doorknob as hard as I could, to no avail.

"C'mon, Abbs, don't be like that," he begged, coming closer with every step, arms wide as if ready to pull me into his warm embrace. The warm embrace of a killer...

I pushed him away, "Don't touch me."

Turning to the next-door, one in the dining room, I pulled so hard that the knob actually fell out of its socket, landing on my toes with a painful crunch. I winced, doing my best not to let pain show in my face.

It was no use, though, Henry had seen.

"Are you okay?" he asked, kneeling down next to me, "Do you need ice?"

I swore under my breath and tried every door in the house, Henry following me like a lost child, unsure what to do. His plain obviously wasn't working out quite as well as he had expected it to.

"Would you at least let me explain everything?" He yelled as I tromped upstairs to check the windows. I closed my eyes briefly, stopping once I reached the top step.

"I think you've explained enough," I shot back, mustering up as much of a cold tone as I could use towards Henry.

"Please, Abby, I owe you that much. Please," He was literally crawling now, pleading with everything he had as he tried to reason, to get me to see his side.

"Fine."

I continued walking, eyes never drifting back to Henry's face until I'd reached my room, and sat down on my bed. He came in directly after me, taking my glare as a sign to lean against the wall, arms dangling at his sides, instead of taking a seat next to me.

"I met Wakefield during the raid seven years ago," he started, "I don't know what it was but, when I saw him, it was just like something clicked, like the lies that had been told to me all my life didn't matter any more. I didn't know what it was, and I didn't have time to find out, but the thought of it never strayed far from my mind," he took a deep breath, his eyes never wavering from my face, as if he was dreading, almost fearing, my reaction, "He came up to me a few years later, telling me about how I was his son and how-"

"You're Wakefield's son?" I asked, unable to keep the overwhelming hint of astonishment from creeping into my voice.

"Yeah, about that..."

"You're my brother?" I stared at him, wide-eyed, voice wavering like a loose telephone wire in a hurricane.

"Half-brother, actually... And I never knew until recently. But Abby, it doesn't _matter. _We're the only two ones here. Nobody knows. Nobody _has _to

know." His eyes were wide and I felt myself becoming more and more confused with every revelation that left his lips.

I quieted up then, waiting to hear the rest.

I didn't wait in vain.

"He, of course, taught me how to kill. The murders in Seattle, the ones your dad had files on, were never Wakefield. It was all me. He had to teach me some how and that was the only way," He chuckled, "I mean, I'd always had these impulses, these urges, to do things, but I'd never understood them until I met my dad."

"But all these people," I almost cried, "and the wedding. Why?"

"Because I needed you here, Abby, and that was the only way I could think of to get you. Abbs, I love you. I would do anything for you. Anything."

"Henry," I said quietly, tears building up in my eyes "Are you just saying this because you're going to kill me? Is this fun for you? You're sick. You killed all of them. Everyone. Everyone I cared about. Does that mean anything to you at all? So, just do it. Take out the knife and get it over with. I don't need it anymore, Henry. Kill me." I was ranting now, tears falling more heavily down my face and gathering in a wet mess on the floor.

"No," he almost shouted, "No, no, no, Abby, how could you ever think that? I could never; _never _do anything like that to you. I love you. I won't kill anyone else, Abbs, I'm done. I promise."

I shook my head furiously, hair whipping around my head, neck moving so fast that the vertebrates clicked together, "You changed, Henry... I don't know you anymore."

Sobs were choking their way through my throat, ripping through my stomach, now. He bent down in front of me, wiping the tears away with his fingertips.

"Shh," he soothed, smoothing my hair back and pressing his forehead against mine, thumb still tracing some intricate pattern on my cheek, "I never changed. I'm still the same old Henry, Abby, I just... I did this for us. Please, Abby, you have to understand. Please. I love you."

Wet drops made their way down my forehead, and I realized now that I wasn't the only one crying.

"My father always said you had to kill the one you love to be complete," he whispered and I immediately tensed up. He pushed my hair back again and sat down next to me, pulling me onto his lap so that I was cradled against his chest. It wasn't that I felt safe there, although I can't deny that I felt a slight sense of ease take over me while I was in his arms… No, it wasn't that. It was that I was too terrified to do anything.

"That's the difference between him and I, though, Abbs. I could never hurt you. He chose death and I choose life with you. Abby, that's all I want. You and this island are my home," he pressed his lips to my hair and I was torn between two emotions, fear and love, fear of his love, maybe.

"What would happen if I stayed here, Henry, with you?" I buried my face in his shirt, soaking it through to his skin, truly overcome by frustration and overall confusion. I loved him, but I hated loving him. How could I ever forgive him for what he'd done to my friends? They were _gone _because of him. He _killed _them.

"Then I'd always be there for you Abby. I could never hurt you, I love you. You're the only thing I care about now. I want it to stay that way," He buried his face in my hair and I could feel his warm breath against my scalp. I wanted to turn around, I wanted to kiss him, to bring him close to me and tell him I loved him too because, in all honesty, I did and I always had and, as much as I hated it, always would. But how could I possibly love him? He had killed the only family I had left, my friends, he was my _half-brother, _and his father murdered my mom.

And yet, had he not always been there for me? He had supported me through every decision I made, helped me through every problem I faced, stayed with me during the nights I felt I'd never see the sun. He _was _my sun. And maybe, just maybe, I was just as messed up as he was.

Maybe I didn't care. And maybe that was because I didn't have to.

"I love you, too," I whispered, turning around so that I could bring my lips to his. He smiled through the kiss, unable to keep a hold on my lips through his elated laughter.

"Abby," he sighed, mouth still pressed against mine, "I love you. I love you and I'm sorry for everything I did. I'm so sorry. I went insane. I- I, Abby, just... I'm not asking you to forgive me. I don't _want_ you to forgive me. Please just promise you won't leave me. That's all I need to know."

"I promise."

And you know what? It _didn't_ matter anymore. Because in a world where everything was so wrong that nothing made sense, shouldn't I just do what makes me happy, even if that meant living out my life with the man who murdered my friends, or even if that man happened to be my _half brother_? None of it mattered any more and just because it was dangerous and sick and all around a miserable happy ending… it was still a happy ending.

Just not the kind you hear about in fairytale books.

Later on in the month, Henry and I got married. No, it wasn't traditional. We said our vows by the boathouse, laughing throughout the "ceremony" at our straw figure priest. The honeymoon took place in the abandoned hotel and we found countless things to do on the island, each living out our lives, as we wanted to, together.

My name Abby Mills, I'm married to Henry Dunn and live on Harper's Island. And if you thought the insanity was over, then think again because it's

Just

Getting

Started.

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FIN.

**Yeah, it's weird. I know. But I just love love love them and want to see them together and happy. I really wish they weren't siblings though. In my story, however, are they really?- Yeah, that's right, I'm putting them together how I like it. Ohhhhhh. Hehe. So, there'll be more chapters. I hope you like it. Please read.**


	2. Two And One More

**AN: A few questions are going to be answered here. I hope they're the ones your thinking. This is my last update today... So yuppz. That's all I got people, sorry. I'll try to add more later in the week. Hope you enjoy!!!!**

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Chapter 1: The Beginning of A Lifetime

"Abby," Henry whispered, lips next to my ear, his hand making its way up to caress my cheek, "Abbs, wake up."

"Hmm?" Was my intelligent reply, eyes still closed as I pushed myself closer to him, burrowing my face in the crook of his neck, attempting to buy myself a bit more sleep time.

He chuckled, his voice taking on a teasing sing-song tune, "I'll make breakfast…"

I shook my head, too lazy to even form words, "I thought being alone meant we could sleep in late every day," I joked groggily, "That was one of the appeals of staying here."

Laughing to himself, he kissed the top of my head and stood up, causing the old bedsprings to creak quietly from the loss of his weight next to me. As always, I instantly craved his company.

"Henry?" I called out blindly, still unwilling to open my eyes, "Henry, are you still here?"

"Never left, never will," Came the immediate reply, giving me the overwhelming impulse to see his face. No sooner had I opened my eyes than a strong pair of arms wrapped themselves under my legs and arms, so that I was held, bridal position, in Henry's arms.

"Hey, Abbs," He whispered hoarsely, his face centimeters from mine.

"Hi, stranger," I whispered back, groaning at how cliché the line sounded, "Wow, that was lame…"

"I've come up with worse," He shrugged, starting towards the door with me still in his arms.

"Put me down," I squealed, kicking out my legs half-heartedly as he brought me down the stairs, cautiously, one step at a time, "I want to be put back in the bed. Henry, put me down so I can go to sleep. It's not even twelve-" I stopped mid-sentence and stared at him openly for a good three minutes, "Henry?"

"I know."

"Oh- oh my Gosh…" I stuttered.

"I know," he repeated, smiling down at me.

"Is that a…"

"What else could it be?"

Before I even knew what I was doing, I had my arms around his neck and my lips pressed against his so tightly that breathing became temporarily unnecessary.

"Have I told you I loved you lately?" I asked him, grinning from ear to ear.

"One more time isn't going to hurt."

"I love you," I said, pecking him on the cheek once more before unraveling myself from his hold and not so gracefully falling to the floor.

His eyes immediately flooded with concern, "Abby, are you okay? Do you need ice? I'm so sorry for dropping you, it's just that-"

"Shush," I told him, picking myself up off the ground, "It was my fault, stop beating your self up before you lose. You and I both know you have a suckish right hook," I teased, turning back to my gift.

"This is… amazing. Where'd you get this stuff?" I turned the topic of conversation back to the table, lined with expensive-looking breakfast foods. My mouth began to water as I scanned the different plates, each piled high with another type of delectable treat.

"Just because the hotel is abandoned doesn't mean the food has to go to waste," Henry stated simply, seeming content with my reaction.

I picked up a plate, a croissant stuffed in my mouth before he was even done with his sentence. No, it doesn't, I agreed silently, stacking my dish high with an array of pancakes, eggs, bacon, waffles, fruit salad, some tempting looking crepe-type things and banana slices. The best part? That wasn't even a recognizable portion of all the food we had. I laughed giddily and skipped over to the table in the kitchen, the same table my mother and father had eaten at together, with my by their side, not even a decade ago, the same table my father had probably eaten at, alone and scared, last month. I winced, trying not to think of that, willing myself to forget about the past and live out my future how I wanted. It was hard, though, almost unbearably so, at times, when around every corner, every step forward was another reminder of the tragedy that had taken place on this island, the mass murder that my husband was to blame for.

I wiped a stray tear from my eye and continued eating. Henry was coming back to his senses now, though. There were times when he's break out form his usual self and just sit down, staring at his hands with a look of pure disgust on his face. I would always sit next to him, let hi wrap his arms around me, allow my sweater to become damp with a grown man's tears and not speak a thing of it. I knew it was hard on him. Hell, it was hard on me. How could it not be? I was married to a (former) killer, the death sentence of my greatest friends, and yet here I was, sitting here, laughing and talking with him, kissing him, all because that was what I wanted to do. So, sure, call me greedy, call me horrible, name me whatever you'd like, because, the irreversible truth is that I love him with all my heart, and he loves me the same. And even if I wanted to, there was nothing I could do about it.

"Abby," Henry spoke cautiously, breaking me free of my thoughts.

"Yeah?"

"I have something to tell you..."

"Go ahead," I said slowly, scared of where this was going. How much worse could our situation really get?

Apparently, not worse at all.

Only better.

"While you were sleeping one night..." He started, a bit of a smile forming on his face, "I, uhm, well, I kind of decided to do a DNA scan... in the abandoned hospital."

"Mhm... What then?" I prodded, unsure that I liked where this was going.

"Because I knew that my father had had a girlfriend after your mother, a total tool, in a, for the most part, abusive relationship..." He trailed off before coming back to the original thought, "Sorry. The news is that we aren't actually siblings," He stated matter-of-factly, grinning from ear to ear.

"Are you sure?" I asked, completely flabbergasted by the news.

"One hundred percent."

I flung myself into his arms, kissing him full on the mouth, "Henry, this- this... Well, it does make things considerably less weird."

He nodded agreeably, "Definitely."

And Henry Dunn, the man I was bound to by marriage and _no other_ blood tie, kissed me again.

***9 hours later***

Now, I sat in a boat, as Henry had some how persuaded me to go swimming with him off the gulf of the island. How, exactly, he'd won the argument, I couldn't remember. The details were kind of fuzzy, now... I remembered him kissing me and the next thing I knew I was in a boat, done deal.

See, I had no problem with swimming, really, and I could be quite athletic when I wanted to be... I just didn't quite enjoy Henry Dunn's "great master plan" to go swimming in freezing, clouded waters at eight o'clock in the evening. Not exactly my cup of tea.

"Jump in, Abbs," Henry said, his head and shoulders raised out of the water as he bobbed up and down like a human buoy.

"Sorry, Dunn, but not even if this water was a normal temperature."

"Are you talking to yourself or to me?" He joked. He found endless pleasure in reminding me that we now shared a last name. And, no matter how much he's hated his adopted family, he'd kept the name, just so that I could share it.

"Both," I laughed, lounging back against the boat's makeshift couch.

"Fair enough," He shrugged before diving under the water. I rolled my eyes at his antics but my amusement turned to pure fear when he didn't resurface. Bending over the edge of the boat's railing, I searched the waters, scanning them with my eyes. Before I could talk myself out of it, not that I could or even would, I dove into the water, ignoring the weighed down feeling of the clothes that swam around me, removing themselves as far from my body, sloshing around my wrists and ankles.

"Henry!" I nearly screamed, submerging myself underwater with my eyes open to look for him, "Where are you!?"

I felt my foot hit a soft patch, though I was far form the bottom of the bay. Henry.

I dove under again, not caring to so much as catch my breath before even thinking to grab his hand and hoist him up. He came up to the surface, spluttering and coughing, going on about how he had seen something at the bottom, a necklace of some sort and had thought to get it for me as a present. I almost laughed, _another _present. Anyway, he had nearly reached the bottom when he noticed that he had made the mistake of swimming directly under the boat. With no other way up, and little to no breath left, he'd hung there, suspended, but with the necklace firmly grasped in his hand. The necklace that he now, as we stood on the dry floor of the murderous water-vehicle, fastened around my neck.

"You're too thoughtful," I chided as we made our way, dripping wet, back to land-- warm, happy, beautiful land-- with the promise that we'd go swimming only close to shore and during the lightest hours of the day. We had begun to joke about the encounter as we stepped into the house, each eager for a clean shower and dry clothes. However, we realized immediately as we stepped over the threshold, that we were no longer the only ones here. So much for being alone...

I walked around as Henry scanned the room, a look of pure confusion on his face. Furniture was upturned, paintings were ripped off the walls, one of our rugs had been completely ruined and muddy shoe-prints ran throughout the house.

"What happened?" I whispered, my voice barely a squeak as a terror I'd never known since weeks ago replaced itself in my stomach, back at home where it didn't belong. I was with Henry, Henry who had made sure no one was left, no matter how much that killed me. No one, I guess, besides us and this other person, whoever they might be. I wished silently that it might be someone I knew, maybe Nikki or Trish. But they were dead. I had seen both of them, lifeless and cold, staring unseeingly into the eyes of some God I hoped to meet one day, with Henry at my side.

That was beside the point, though, someone was here. Someone was here who knew that _we _were here.

"It doesn't look like they're here now," Henry pointed out, motioning towards the footprints that led back out the broken window, "But I have some-err-things in the garage if it would make you feel more safe to know that..."

"That they weren't going to bother us?" I asked sarcastically, to which he nodded, a bit of his former bloodlust remaking its way into his eyes. "Please don't. I don't want that again, Henry."

He just nodded and tugged on my hand, pulling me close to him and enveloping me in a protective hug, "I'm so sorry. I love you," he whispered.

"Too much, sometimes," I laughed nervously, kissing the tip of his nose.

"Too much," he agreed, the teasing smile back on his face.

"What a touching moment," Someone taunted from the window, and I could almost hear the smirk in their voice.

Oh my God.

Henry spun around and pushed me behind him, shoulders tensed. I grabbed the nearest shard of glass from the broken window behind us and prepared for a fight... a very emotional and unexpected fight.

"So, you got your fairy tale ending after all, Henry? Can't say it surprised me... I mean, if she didn't go for _me _who else would be her pick?" The man laughed and hopped in over the sill and made his way slowly toward us, "What's with the glass, man? Planning to 'stab' me again?"

I stared at the two, confused. What was this all about?

Henry's shoulders relaxed and he stepped back, now next to me, his arm hanging casually over my shoulder.

"Sully, you really can't do that every time you come into the house."

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**Surprised? I hope you are!! I loved him too much to kill him off. He just seemed to me like a great character who _I _should at least keep around. Plus, my friend Manders would kill me if I didn't put him in here. So, yeah... I'll add more later. Hoped it was enjoyable. Okay, this is gonna sound sick, but I almost did think it was strangely more sickly and twistedly romantic when they were 1/2 bro and sis. But they aren't now... Anyway, thoughts?**


	3. AN: The Lost Chapter

**A/N: I have terrible news. I spent 3 hours writing a 16 page chapter on how Sully's alive and a few other secrets, blah blah blah. And then guess what? I tried to save it and the thing goes "Login". I WAS LOGGED IN WHEN I WROTE IT! and now its gone. So. Kill. Me. **

**I'll write it again but prolly tomorrow because I kinda don't feel like spending 6 hours of my day on a chapter that disappeared that I was hopelessly proud of. And NO ONE got to read it.**

**Ugh. One of those days, right?**

**I'll have one up tomorrow, maybe 2, still not sure. Sorry.**

**-xoxo, K**


	4. Bad Example The Man and His Muffin

**Here it is. Finally. Sorry it took a few days. It isn't as good as the first time, I don't think. And not as long. But I hope you enjoy it, I worked super hard in my attempt to do just as well as the first time. I apologize for the delayz!!!! Love you guys for the reviews. Thanks x 100000000000!!!!!!!!!! You all deserve your own Henrys or Sullys. Whichever you like better. ;)**

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"Sully!?" I shouted so loud that the two men in the room turned to look at me like I was some kind of lunatic. I would have laughed had I not been so speechless. Here I was, in a room with a murderer and supposed dead man and _they_ were currently looking at me like _I _was the crazy one. Me, the crazy one. Right. Sully, though. Sully was supposed to be dead. I had seen him... Hm. Well, I hadn't actually _seen _him killed. But what was I supposed to think? When your serial killer now-husband tells you that you can be "all alone", I don't think it would be too hard to pick up on the general idea. But here was Sully, not a scratch on him as he stood next to the window, that same cocky smile on his face as the last time I'd seen him.

"Henry..." I started, but he had eyes only for his best friend right now. And, you know what? There was laughter in those eyes. He, unlike myself, didn't seem the least bit surprised to have one of his murder victims sitting in the same room as us. In fact, the more I watched Henry's casual movements, the more at-ease with the situation _I _became.

'No Abby,' I warned myself, taking a step back and refocusing on Sully, 'This isn't normal,' I tightened my grip on the shard of glass in my hand, so hard that the side against my palm popped on both sides, leaving what was sure to be a small cut. I couldn't feel it, though, all I could feel now was worry. What for, though? Who to be concerned for... It was hard to pick out who was the real victim out of the three of us. I winced, a pained breath making it's way out my lips. I had foolishly forgotten about the glass that my hand squeezed tighter and tighter with each passing second. The edge of the glass now shone red as the blood that had spilled over the side of the clear surface.

Henry rounded on me in a second, "What happened? Are you okay?"

Too afraid to speak, I took a second step back, knocking over the side-table, one of the only not upturned objects in the room, "Huh," was all I was able to get out in my sharp exhale, the piece of the broken window falling to the floor with the blood muffling the crash in a sickening way that made my stomach turn. Sully watched on with an almost ease as Henry tried to console me, placing his hands on my shoulders and talking slowly, as if to a pre-schooler. His efforts were in vain, though, I heard none of it. All I could focus on was the smirking man in the doorway. My husband's best man. One of my closest friends. I was unsure of what to make of him, now. And it was funny how a survival I should have rejoiced in had, instead, turned my whole world upside-down, and not in a good way.

"How-how are you a-alive?" I stuttered out, clinging to the couch with both hands, staining the pillows with a red that spread in a big wet mess over the design.

Henry sighed, "Can we please help that hand before we talk about this?" He asked, turning to the kitchen and pulling out a towel. When he made a move toward me, I jumped back, my grip tightening on the single thing I could trust. The furniture, more specifically the couch. Funny what a good twenty murders can do to a person...

"Tell me," I demanded, forcing the courage I, in the current situation, lacked, into my voice.

"Abby, I'm _not _going to hurt you. Just let me see your hand first," He was just as stubborn as I was, pulling me forward by my arm and wrapping my bloodied hand in a dishtowel before letting me resume my spot. I felt somewhat relieved to know that Henry wasn't going to hurt me. I let him reach for my hand as I listened, doing my best not to interrupt so that I might grasp the little, if any, sanity of the story that was, I hoped, about to be explained.

As it happened, I didn't stay silent for nothing.

"When Wakefield came up to me a while ago, bent on having you killed, I knew I wouldn't be able to do it," Henry started, eyes focused on me and only me while Sully watched from a spot a bit closer to us, but still far enough for me to feel safe, "He told me I'd have to kill you to make me whole and to right the wrongs of the past. I saw opportunity in his plan, if I could only twist it so it flipped, leaving you as the only one alive," He looked down at me with a growing sentiment of love and self-pride as the story progressed, "I knew I'd need someone else to help. Someone who _didn't _want to have me kill the girl I loved. So, naturally, I turned to Sully."

Sully perked up on hearing his name, "That's me."

I stifled a laugh and waited to hear more, patiently reserving my thoughts for when sense was brought into this whole mess.

Henry, never to disappoint, continued, "He was perfect for the job. He had all the qualities I'd need if I was going to pull this off," He grinned lopsidedly at me, "You know... He's loyal, takes directions easily, isn't all that bright, can handle a gun pretty well and already owed me for a few favors, back in college."

Sully nodded with each quality listed, chuckling at a few. I hated to admit it, but this was actually starting to fit together in a sick sort of demented way.

"Don't forget the charm," The blonde haired man added.

Henry chuckled, "What charm?"

Sully rolled his eyes, "C'mon, man, without such a devilish charm, I would have been an easy suspect."

Once again, I resisted the temptation to laugh. These boys were just too damned close to me for me to ever hate them.

"What about you dying though?" I spoke up for the first time since the recount started, voicing the question I still had yet to find an answer for. It had seemed something impossible to pull off, as I'd suspected Wakefield would have at the very least wanted to see Sully's body, cold and lifeless as his other victims.

Henry cracked a smile at this, "Ketchup."

Sully's expression matched that of his friend, "Schoolboy trick."

Only they could pull of an absolutely revolting mass killing-spree using high school tricks. I can't say I had expected any more of them, though.

"Okay, fine," I sighed, relaxing more into Henry's arms, "So, where will you be staying, then?"

Sully grinned sheepishly and it didn't take a genius to find out where this was headed, "Oh no," I said, eyes widening as I began to shake my head, "No, no, no, no."

"C'mon, Abbs," Henry pleaded, and, in that moment, he was an eight year old begging for a sleep-over, "Please... He's part of the reason your still alive."

Sully, still in the corner, jutted out his lower lip and widened his eyes, masking his cocky attitude with his famous puppy dog pout that had made girls swoon back in high school. This wasn't high school, though, and what Henry had failed to mention was that he, himself, was part of the reason that I could have been _dead. _But, I wasn't. And I had them to thank for that.

"Fine."

"Seriously?" Sully bounced right back up, eyes and mouth going back to normal, "For real, Abby?"

I laughed, "As long as you never make that face again," I compromised, "And you have to clean up this mess. It looks like you took an axe to the place."

"Being stealthy is harder than it looks," He said solemnly.

"You aren't supposed to see people who are being stealthy," I told him, crossing my arms while Henry laughed at the exchange of our odd, friendly banter. That was how Sully and I bonded, though. He'd be stupid and I'd correct him, then he'd be a jerk and I'd hit him. But deep-down, we were still like brother and sister, me being the older, of course.

"Umm... Do you guys mind if I add just one more person to this happy group?" Sully asked out of no where, trying to charm his way into bringing what I guessed to be some other unknown survivor into our house.

"Who is it?" I asked tiredly, getting slightly annoyed with the day's surplus of surprises.

"Muffin, of course."

Oh. I just rolled my eyes while Henry let out a humorous whoop and told him to bring her in so they could get settled in my old room, as we had taken over my parents'. Sully grinned and reached his arm out the window, pulling a large, inflatable blonde girl in a red bikini through a broken pane.

"Isn't she lovely?" He teased and I felt like high-school again, the three of us joking and laughing like we'd never grown up and didn't plan on it any time soon.

I looked at the toy boy-men in front of me, a teasing smile spreading up to the top-half of my face, "So, what to do now...?"

They both shrugged. Anything, I guess.

"Well, let's see," I slouched back into the couch, Henry's arm still wrapped tight around my waist, "Any other survivors I should know about first?"

Henry looked at me, not saying anything. Several emotions flitted through his eyes, only three I recognized, fear, shame and pain. The fourth I discerned as I deep, burning hate, though I couldn't figure out for what this newfound detestation was for.

"Who is it?" I pressed, eager to know which one of my friends had lived.

I sensed the clench of his teeth, watched as his eyes narrowed and heard as he opened his mouth, said the name that made my sides hurt and felt the betrayal and utter confusion as to why _this _of all things, had been kept from me in some sort of elaborate lie he'd weaved up out of my all too believing mind.

"Jimmy."

I felt a surge of panic, replaced by utter bewilderment and finally an emptiness that hurt more than the other two put together, "Where is he?"

"Abby, I don't quite feel comfortable with you going to see-"

"Where is he?" I asked again, nearly yelling this time.

Henry, maintaining his calm and collected manner, stood up, pulling me with him, and brought me into a kiss that, as always, left me speechless. I couldn't deny it, it was a good way to shut someone up when he was so hung over on explaining himself. Which he always was.

Great, I get just a bunch of "fun" surprises today, huh. I'd have to remind him later exactly how much I _hated _being surprised.

"I hate Jimmy."

"Please, elaborate," I spoke the words so cold that my tongue felt coated with ice, so biting and harsh that Henry flinched while Sully ran upstairs, muttering something about 'couple spat' and slamming his door behind him.

He sighed, "One day, when I'd gone to the Cannery for a drink, I found Jimmy at one of the pool tables, yelling about about how he was going to break your heart. He had a whole plan, he was going to 'nail you', be the perfect gentleman, have you fall madly in love with him and then tell you how much he hated you, how much he never wanted to see your sorry face in this town again," Henry looked so overcome with anger, he shook as he spoke and his lip curled up in a snarl as he said the last part, "He told you that when he saw you, all those feelings went away, didn't he? That he was overcome with love and couldn't bear to hurt you?"

I nodded, close to tears. Henry would always be my one true love, but Jimmy had been close to my heart, all the same.

"I knew it... I'd heard the speech, you know. The whole bar did. Such bull. I almost killed him there. It would have been easy, with a broken bottle or a kitchen knife," The sick gleam was back in his eye as he thought of ways to kill the man who'd wronged me, the man I'd thought I'd loved not too long ago, "But I wanted to save him. For the end. See, he's Wakefield's accomplice. Or so the rest of the world will think."

I couldn't be mad at Henry anymore. I just couldn't. Not when he had such proof of his story. I'll admit, he was a bit overdramatic with his plan, but that was how he was, and I loved him for it. I brought his face close to mine, kissing him with as much forgiveness as I could put into the crushing of my lips against his. Relief showed in his face when he pulled away, only to bring be close to him again in a comforting hug.

"Where is he?" I asked a third time, voice and mind taking on a whole new tone. This time I wasn't aiming to help the man I'd loved. No, I thought, as watery-flames licked at my tear ducts, leaving a burning path down my cheeks. I was going to kill him.

* * *

**Ooh! Abby's taking after her boyfriend here. Will she actually be able to do it, though? She isn't exactly the murdering TYPE. You'll see in Chappie 4!!! Love you guys, still. Tell me what you think and I'll keep writing. That's how things work. haha :D**


	5. Karma Makes Revenge Easier

_I couldn't be mad at Henry anymore. I just couldn't. Not when he had such proof of his story. I'll admit, he was a bit overdramatic with his plan, but that was how he was, and I loved him for it. I brought his face close to mine, kissing him with as much forgiveness as I could put into the crushing of my lips against his. Relief showed in his face when he pulled away, only to bring me close to him again in a comforting hug._

_"Where is he?" I asked a third time, voice and mind taking on a whole new tone. This time I wasn't aiming to help the man I'd loved. No, I thought, as watery-flames licked at my tear ducts, leaving a burning path down my cheeks. I was going to kill him._

* * *

Henry, looking concerned, stood up, wrapped a protective arm around my shoulders, and led me out the door. I didn't speak, and neither did he. This was a moment past words. And so I planned. This seemed like the appropriate time to do so, as murder didn't seem something I would be able to do with the sort of sick ease Henry had promised not to bring back into our lives. But here we were. Here _I _was, ready to kill the man who had been a big part of my life, and I, strangely enough, felt ready for the task.

And yet I wasn't.

Henry led me through the door of a small shack in the woods I'd never taken the time to notice, except for, I'm sure, a hide-and-seek game or two when we were still kids. I squinted, allowing my eyes to adjust to the dim lighting, to make out the dark shapes that lined the walls of the room. I smiled when I saw Jimmy, unsure of how deranged I actually looked. He was awake, bound to a pole by medical wrap and coarse rope. He glared at Henry, chest heaving shakily, with the same hate Henry had for him burning in his eyes. Henry just leaned back against the wall, waiting for whatever would happen to happen with a slightly worried look on his face.

"Jimmy," I said his name like a question, as if I couldn't believe it was actually him, here, in front of me. As if I loved him. Which I don't.

Henry scrunched his eyebrows together, not comprehending what was happening now, and I immediately regretted not letting him in on my plan. I took a deep breath, steadying myself, and crossed my index and middle finger behind my back, "I wanted to call you every day."

That was an absolute lie. I wanted to call _Henry _every day. Henry. The man I had thought about day and night when I moved away to Los Angeles, the man who's warmth I had both hoped for and feared when I received his wedding invitation, the man who had, as he told me now, tried to call _me _every day, without realizing that I had, for a reason unfathomable to him, switched to Verizon Wireless.

"Abbs," Jimmy said, and my fists clenched while more anger swelled up in the pit of my stomach, only Henry could call me that, "Are you okay? Did he hurt you?"

"No," I faked a sob through a smile, "No, I'm fine. What about you, Jimmy? Are _you _okay?" I wanted to know the answer to this one, because if he was okay _now _he wasn't going to be in a minute. And that was the minute I intended to make his last.

"I'm fine, Abbs, I'm fine," and again I wanted to hit him for calling me that, even more so when he reached out and placed his rough hand on my cheek, "I'm just so happy I get to see you again," he winced and took a sharp intake of breath, "You look so beautiful."

Henry laced all of three fingers in mine, behind me, and I could almost feel the jealousy rolling off him, the need for reassurance in what _we _had. With Jimmy and I, there was no "we", there would never again _be _a "we". I traced a pattern in his palm, behind my back where Jimmy couldn't see.

"I love you, Abby."

_Of course _he did.

"I love you, too," I lied, and a triumphant smile spread up his face. We'd see who'd be smiling in a minute, "But a lot's changed, Jimmy," I said in a stroke of brilliance, using his words from when I first came back to the island, "I've changed."

"Really?" He asked, a weak but teasing smile making its way up the corners of his mouth, "What about you?"

"I'm married now."

Jimmy's eyes opened a bit wider in recognition of my sick joke, but he laughed all the same, assuming it to be some sort of couple-y banter between us, when in reality, I had modified it to my own joke. I smiled as sincerely as I could, holding up my ringless right hand, and he chuckled.

"Whoops," I giggled at my own cunning, "Wrong hand," and this time I held up the left hand, the eight diamonds sparkling in the midst of all the intricate gold metal weavings that held them in place. Jimmy gasped audibly and Henry stifled a laugh from behind me.

Jimmy looked between Henry and I, realization making its way onto his face, "You and... you and _him_?"

"Me and who?" I asked, faking ignorance to the situation, "Oh... You mean Henry and I?"

Jimmy nodded, biting his lower lip and letting out a sound that could, as far as I could tell, only be some sort of growl.

Henry decided it was his turn to play a part in the game, "Why is this such a surprise, Mance? You knew I loved her. Enough to _kill _for her. How is it so shocking to you that I decided to _marry _her?" He teased, holding my ringed hand in his.

"I don't know, Dunn," Jimmy spat, "You just never seemed like the marrying type... Especially after your last arrangement."

I, being the one who came up with this whole plan, decided to step back into it, "Jimmy, Jimmy, Jimmy... You know, I really thought I loved you," Jimmy didn't say anything, he just kept his glare on Henry, my Henry, "Then Henry told me about that day in the Cannery..."

Jimmy's eyes widened, "I was _drunk_."

"Like hell, you were," Henry spoke up, eyes narrowing to slits.

He was pleading now, "Abbs, come on, I _loved _you. I wasn't going to hurt you all that bad. Please, Abbs-"

_Smack._

Jimmy was startled, maybe more so than Henry, who was staring at the hand-shaped spot where I had struck Jimmy's cheek with a mixed look of confusion and pride. Jimmy moved his hand from my cheek to his in an instant, feeling the red area that I hoped really hurt.

"_Only Henry can call me that_," I fumed, turning around and kissing Henry with as much passion as I could.

As I hoped, Jimmy seemed hurt, in pain almost, as he watched Henry's stunned but pleased expression. He had messed with the wrong heart, reeled it in only to try and hurt it and have it not be in his possession any more. I was over him.

And yet, as I picked up the knife, I couldn't do it. I couldn't kill Jimmy Mance. I pursed my lips and held the hilt so hard my knuckles turned white. But I just couldn't kill him. I wasn't a murderer, as Henry had told me weeks back.

"Go ahead," I breathed, cutting the ropes and gesturing to the door, "Go."

He looked at me, eyes wide and hopeful, "Thank-"

"I said go, Jimmy."

Henry smiled at me, and I was sure I'd done the right thing by letting Jimmy run away, as long as he consented not to bother us. Besides, I thought with some reassurance, I'd gotten his fingerprints on the knife anyway, that should help our case.

And all the while, I hadn't realized the man who I'd just set free had punched me until I hit the floor, cheek bruised and bleeding. Henry knelt down beside me immediately, brushing my hair back from my face to examine the mark. His fingers were like ice on the sore spot, numbing and soft, sliding down the edge of my cheekbone to lift my face to his, "Are you okay?"

"I think so," I crinkled my eyes together, slightly dazed, "I couldn't do it."

He laughed then, circling his arms around me and chuckling, "You aren't a killer."

Henry helped me up and allowed me to place my weight against his once I'd almost knocked into the wall as a tribute to my dizziness. He held me close and pressed his lips to the top of my head, telling me how happy he was that he had such an "amazing, kindhearted girl that had somehow picked him over someone like Jimmy".

We got made it back to the house, me taking my time while Henry complained about how the side of my face was going to turn purple unless we got some ice for it.

"Stop being such a whiner," I laughed, hitting him playfully on the shoulder, "I'm the one who got punched." He just looked down at me and shook his head, still muttering about how I was going to look like Harvey Two-Face from Batman, a show we'd both loved as kids. He then proceeded to inform me of his concern that I was under-reacting about having been punched by an ex-boyfriend. I retaliated well, by letting him know that he was, as always, overreacting, and although I loved that about him, he'd have to zip it or we'd both walk in with half-purple faces and end up as victim to Sully's jokes.

Speak of the devil...

Sully popped up onto my old window sill, grinning at us from his two-story up perch on the ledge, , "How'd it go, Mr. and Mrs. Dunn?"

"It makes me feel old when you call us that," I yelled back, jovially while Henry stuck his tongue out childishly at his best friend, "But it went okay. I let him leave and he gave me a black eye, but no one was killed," I shrugged and Henry let out a short, humorless laugh.

"Woah," Sully's smile was wiped clean off his face, "You took a _hit_ from the jerk, Mills?"

I nodded and Henry seethed at my side, "He hit _on _her too. She's lucky _I _didn't kill him then and there."

Sully leaped from his perch, landing neatly in front of us, that devilish gleam back in his eyes, "So, Mills, I know _you _don't want to kill anyone... But what 'bout your boys here?" He punched me lightly on the arm, and I got the double-meaning of the action.

"Not funny, Sullivan," I snickered, while mentally, I was thinking about if that would actually be okay with me. Who was I kidding? I was married to a killer, but I was no psychopath, "No thanks, guys. Just let him go, there's been too much bloodshed on this island," I said the last part sounding smaller and weaker than I'd meant to.

Sully and Henry gave me their sympathetic smiles and Henry tightened his grip on me.

"Did you hear that?" He asked out of nowhere, turning his head in the direction of the bushes.

"What?"

"_That_," Henry repeated, motioning to the rustling leaves and taking a protective stance in front of me, "Do you hear it?"

I nodded, unable to speak, and the next three things happened almost simultaneously. Jimmy came out of nowhere, barreling toward Henry and knocking him over in the dirt, "Run Abby!" He called to me, pounding my Henry into the dust. Sully joined the fight, successfully pulling Jimmy out of the group, who was still swinging and punching violently in Henry's general direction, who had managed to get a bloody nose, a good amount of bruises, a few scratches, and what looked like a few broken fingers, by the way they were bent. I rushed to his side, cradling his head in my lap and brushing a few stray hairs out of his face.

"Oh my God," I whispered, holding his good fingers and bringing the hand on which I could see three that were crooked and angled in odd directions, to my lips, kissing the blood away. It was weird to have Henry hurt, he'd always seemed to sure of everything, so invincible, "I love you... I love you, I love you, I love you," I whispered repeatedly into his skin, anxious tears pooling over the skin at the base of my eyes.

Jimmy, the idiot who took a good three hours to realize the full situation of Henry and I's relationship, broke free of Sully's hold and took off running, but a single shot from a gun placed all-too-conveniently next to the house was all it took for Jimmy to tumble to the ground and, somehow, out of my sight.

Sully whooped loudly, "That's what you get for hitting a girl, man!"

I squinted my eyes to see where he went, taking a few steps closer to where he fell, and, of course, right when I had hit him, he had reached the end of the cliff that led down to the beach if you decided to take the stairs- Which, I noted with a small amount of humor, hadn't exactly been an option for Jimmy.

I decided not to peer over the edge, as there could only have been one possible thing that could have happened there. Jimmy would be at the base of the large rock, covered in blood and sprawled on the ground, lifeless, and I would, in that moment, feel bad for what I'd seen, a fate that was unavoidable for the man I'd once loved, as he had made the mistake of coming back, when I had so clearly told him to leave.

I walked back to Henry and helped him off the ground, he was still covered in small patches of blood, with those three fingers twisted and hooked unevenly, but at least he was alive. And as long as he was alive, he'd be good enough for me.

We got back into the house and I let Henry lay down on the couch, "Are you okay?" He asked, grimacing, and I'd guessed that Jimmy had also hit him in the mouth at one point.

"Am _I _okay?" I repeated his question, almost laughing.

"I'm fine," He lied, the purse of his lips gave him away whenever he moved, "I promised you, didn't I?" He smiled weakly and I laughed at the absurdity of it all, "But, really, Abby, _are you okay_?"

I nodded, thinking back on Jimmy's death, "Karma's a bitch."

* * *

**So, there it is, chapter 4. Jimmy's died and Henry got beat up... It was a pretty rough chapter. For all the Jimmy fans, I'm sorry. I just don't like Jimmy. Sue me. I mean, it isn't hate, he's a nice guy and all (Not in my story- but still). I just don't like how he looks at people. Quite frankly, it creeps me out. So here it is. I hope you like the new chapter and I love all you guys. PLEASE share your thoughts about the story because they're super helpful to me. I actually get some of the story from you guys. So give me ideas. Thanks to Gabbay, the plan was changed around a bit and I like how it turned out with all that. Anyway, reviewz please! **

**Xoxo,**

**K**


	6. the Man With Two Names

**I'm running out of surprises, but I _realllllyyyyyyyyy_ wanted to get this in here. Sorry x 1000000000 if I'm bugging you guys. I love you for actually caring what I have to write and just know it really makes it feel great when I see that I've somehow gotten a new fave or review. Even if you guys don't like it, feel free to tell me, I'm totally open to the critics. Make suggestions too if there's anything you want in later chapters. :D thank you**

* * *

I woke up the next morning to the sound of yelling. I didn't know exactly what that meant for us, but whatever it was, it couldn't be good.

"Henry," I whispered sharply, shaking his arm, "Henry, get up. Now."

"Wassamattawitayelling?" He slurred, rubbing his eyes and propping himself up on the pillows, "It's four o'clock in the morning, Abby," He sighed, squinting at the digital alarm clock at his bedside, "Go back to sleep."

Glaring, I pushed him off the bed with my foot, ready to do whatever it took to get him and I out of this house before we were found out, which, it seemed we already had, "Henry, get up _now,_" I growled, "I hear yelling outside and we need to leave. Right away."

That got him up. Finally.

"What!?" He thundered, sitting bolt upright and pushing himself off the bed, pulling a still-dizzy-from-sleep me up with him, "Where's Sully?"

"Sully?" I spoke the name like I'd never heard it before, for a moment forgetting my husband's best friend and unknown partner-in-crime who had conveniently chosen to sleep in my old room, just down the hall from us, "What do you mean? Isn't he in his room?"

"He went to go get food from the hotel this morning... His way of saying thanks, I guess," Henry shrugged, "Anyway, he took my keys and left really early."

A voice from downstairs cut through his statement, easily recognized by the two of us.

That didn't take long.

"My name _is_ Bert Applebottom, now leave me alone," Sully yelled at what I would assume to be our island's intruders.

Another voice sounded after his, "That's not the name of anyone who's ever lived on this island, sir. I have the records right here."

"Applebottom," A third voice giggled from the first floor, "Very creative, I have to hand it to you. 'Appleton' would have been more believable, though, if you don't mind me suggesting for the _next _time you have cops inspecting your house."

Sully coughed, "Yes," I could almost hear him scratching the back of his head, "Yes, my house. Right."

I stayed quiet, listening closely. If Sully could wiggle his way out of his little dilemma here, we might really have a chance at getting off without any charges, let alone prison sentences. I thought for a minute, the scientists would have never found Sully's body. Maybe that would make things a bit easier on us, even if they did manage to figure out who he really was. Without thinking, I grabbed Henry's unhurt hand and led him to the door, pressing my ear against the keyhole. Him and I were a different case, we were dead as far as the whole world knew. It was a creepy concept, but it just took some getting used to.

I turned my attention back to the subject at hand, "Henry..." I whispered, tightening my grip on his hand, "What did Sully _do_?"

"I dunno, Abbs," Henry placed his free, bandaged up hand on the door, turning to me before resuming his listening in, "Knowing Sully, he probably gave it a good chase, though."

**Enter Sully's Mind -3 Hours Earlier-**

Wow, hotel kitchens really do store up a hell of a lot of food. I grinned at the orderly array of pancake mixes and egg cartons. This would be more fun than I'd thought. I strode over to a large wooden shelf, hopped on and shoveled a countertop of breakfast foods into the plastic garbage bag I'd brought with me. I moved easily from shelf to counter, counter to shelf, my bag getting heavier with each item added. Finally satisfied with my work, I pushed myself back onto the floor and out the door, pondering over whether it would be quieter to break another window in the house or just use the front door.

I decided to go with window.

The walk home started out extremely uneventful. I kicked around a few stones, blah blah blah, the normal stuff. However, the second the first voice started talking, I stopped in my tracks. It didn't sound like Abby or Henry, who I had assumed back at the house, still asleep, curled up next to each other like the lovesick little puppies they were. It was pathetic, but somehow adorable. I found myself wishing for a split-second that I had someone like that, someone to be adorably pathetic with. Or pathetically adorable, in my case.

"This place gives me the creeps," A first voice said, obviously a girl, "Why can't we go back to Seattle. We'll tell Sergeant Afferton we didn't find anyone and this scary place can be let alone. In face, that seems like a pretty freaking fantastic plan to me..." She trailed off just as I had managed to reach a high-up branch in the closest, if not the most sturdy tree, I could find.

"Did you hear that?" Asked a second voice, more melodic than the first. I squinted through the leaves, able to make out the feet and light brown hair of the speaker.

"Hear what?" Her partner asked nervously, this girl I could see all of. She had dark brown hair, covered by a tan hat, and chocolate brown eyes, with high cheekbones and pale skin. She was on the shorter side and wore an expensive-looking navy sweater with skinny jeans and converse. What I noticed most about her, though, was the badge pinned to her chest, 'Seattle Investigatory Services' it read. I felt my breath catch in my throat, great. This would just make things _that _much harder.

"I swear," the second speaker laughed to herself, "You were never this nervous back when we were fighting off a good twenty-five _armed _special agents back in Europe."

The first girl sighed, "That's because we weren't on this creepy island."

The branch under my started to wobble slightly and I didn't dare even to breathe. I could see them passing under me... They'd be gone in: 3...2...1...

_CRASH._

The breakfast foods came crashing to the ground, spilling out the top of the garbage bag I hadn't thought to tie. Both girls screamed and jumped back, staring, in shock, at where the bag had opened up in my hiding spot. Crap, crap, crap... This would be an awkward encounter.

"Who's there?" One of the girls yelled, shining a flashlight in my face through the leaves.

I took a deep breath and hopped out of the tree, putting on my most winning smile, "Hello, ladies."

They each shrieked again, the girl I'd seen earlier dropping the flashlight with a small thump and flickering of the lightbulb just beyond the plastic surface, "Who are you?" She asked, eyes widening and hand moving to the gun tucked safely in her belt.

"Erm..." I scrunched up my face, my eyes picking up on an apple that had fallen, along with most of the food I'd stored up, from my bag, "Apple...bottom. Bert Applebottom."

"Well, Bert," The second voice, the most beautiful girl I'd ever seen, said something, but all I could seem to focus on was the way her lips moved, mutely, as I imagined kissing her instead of having her talk to me, kissing was so much better than talking. She was thin. Thin and tall, a few inches shorter than myself, I'd imagine, with long light-brown hair and big almond-shaped brown eyes. Doe eyes, I told myself in the privacy of my own mind.

"You're pretty," I told her, dumbly, before bringing my hand to my forehead, "Sorry... It's just... there aren't too many people on this island and..."

The girl I'd seen first giggled, "He _likes _you," she whispered all too audibly to the beautiful girl next to her. I mean, it isn't like _she_ wasn't beautiful, she was stunning. Really, she was. It's just, her friend, the "second voice" was absolutely... Well, whatever she was, I don't there was a word to describe it yet. That and my mind had drawn a complete blank the second her eyes passed over to mine.

"Umm... It's fine," She shrugged, a look of confusion firmly in place on his face.

I grinned in that infamous cocky way I mastered at age five, "Cool... So are you guys like the definition of sexy cops, or what?" I cringed at my own comment. That just sounded stupid... Why is it I had to say that? Really, _anything _but that would have been okay.

That earned me a good punch in the stomach and sassy slap across the face, "I'll take that as a yes," I muttered, rubbing my jaw.

They both glared at me, hands placed identically on their hips and with scowls like handlebars planted firmly on their pretty faces. It seemed unnatural to have such soft-looking, beautiful women look so tough and ready to hit me in the face if I gave them a reason to- erm, _another _reason to, "Do you have any idea of what's happened on this island?" The lighter haired, perfect girl asked, obviously annoyed at my ignorance.

"No..." I said slowly, lying, afraid of where this conversation was going.

"The mass murder of twenty or so people has taken place on this island, sir, and we'd appreciate it if you'd answer all questions honestly," The dark-haired girl raised her eyebrows, testing, "_Bert_."

I coughed nervously, "I, uhm, don't know what you're talking about."

"We'd like to inspect the premises, so if you wouldn't mind leading us to your house please," One of them demanded, though I was too nervous to pick out who this time, "You, as one of the last remaining people on the island, are officially a suspect in the murder."

Eyes widening at how close to home they were actually guessing, I made a hasty retreat, "I'm sorry... officers. I really don't have time for this. I've got to get home to... erm, watch the game. Goodbye."

Walking fast, breathing as quietly as I could, without even bothering to pick up the breakfast I'd so considerately gotten, I made my way back to the house, annoyingly and fully aware of the two women in hot pursuit. I sighed once I'd reached the street and turned around, "Would you go _away_?"

"Would you cooperate?" The stunning light-haired girl who I now understood to be named Amanda fumed, "We're officers of the _law._"

"Yeah," I crossed my arms, "and I'm getting extremely pissed off. Now shoo."

The darker-haired girl, Stella, looked completely annoyed with me, ha, "Are you serious with this?"

I nodded, "Yes," I spoke exaggeratedly slow, as if talking to two year olds, "Now _please leave."_

"Not until we get some answers," Amanda told me, stubbornly.

"Fine."

"Do you live on Harper's Island?"

"It's a summer home."

"Do you or do you not know anything of the events that have taken place here in the past two months?"

"No."

"You're lying," She narrowed her eyes and repeated the question.

"Yes," I frowned, focusing on the tree in a neighboring yard.

"What do you know?"

"More than you do."

"Elaborate," Stella spoke up, eyebrows raising so high that they disappeared under her bangs.

"I... I know about the murders."

"Do you know the full story?"

"There are a few details I'm fuzzy on."

"What about the killer?" She asked, "Do you know about the killer?"

"Yes," There was no use in lying, it would make _me _seem more guilty.

"Who was it?"

"John Wakefield, total lunatic, killed anyone he could get his hands on," I took a deep breath, "He died a few weeks back. Fire."

They looked baffled by what I knew, and suddenly their eyes turned sympathetic, "You were there, weren't you? At the wedding... You were a guest?"

"I never said that."

"You didn't have to," Stella shrugged, "Wow, I should have seen it earlier, he looks just like that guy... What was it? Ch-"

"I have to go," I stated simply, beginning to walk away before they could so much as say my name.

Boldly, I tromped straight into Henry and Abby's house, now thoroughly annoyed with the two "private investigator" girls who were unknowingly trying to tear apart my friends' and my life here, the life we'd sacrificed so much for, way too much to just give up.

"Christopher Sullivan," Stella called after me, marching into the house next, "Come back here. This instant."

"That isn't my name."

"Well, whatever your name is, it sure as hell isn't Bert Applebottom, Mr. Sullivan," she countered easily.

"My name _is_ Bert Applebottom, now leave me alone," I yelled, trying to shut the door, "You people are so annoying," I added in an undertone.

"That's not the name of anyone who's ever lived on this island, sir. I have the records right here," _Amanda _smirked, tapping the records. I never thought I could ever hate a gorgeous girl, but here I was, infuriated with _two. _

"Applebottom," Stella giggled, crossing her arms, "Very creative, I have to hand it to you. 'Appleton' would have been more believable, though, if you don't mind me suggesting for the _next _time you have cops inspecting your house."

"Yes," I said nervously, chuckling and biting my lip with the anxiety of these freaking hot cops grilling me for information on my best friend's life, "My house. Right."

The floor creaked upstairs and I mentally slapped myself in the face. Crap.

"What was that?" Amanda perked up, eyes and ears alert.

I pursed my lips, "I don't know, why don't you just bother the hell out of the attic until you can squeeze out every little bit of information from it. I'm sorry, though, would you like to call it by a different name? Maybe you can re-dub the basement too," I added with fake enthusiasm.

Stella covered her mouth to keep from laughing while Amanda's face turned red with annoyance, "Mr. Sul- Applebottom," She started, exasperated, "Do you know what a taser is?"

"Yeah." I hate these people.

"Have you ever _been _tased?" She was testing me now, sensing for weakness.

I smirked, "No, but I imagine it would hurt," I smiled in mock-politeness, "Hey, have you ever lost a job for electrifying an innocent man?"

"Innocent," Stella scoffed, rolling her eyes.

A footstep this time. I clenched my fists by my side and mentally cursed Henry and Abby for being so freaking loud in a situation that called for absolute silence.

Amanda frowned, "We'd like to investigate upstairs."

"I'd like you to leave."

"We're searching upstairs, Mr. Whatever-Your-Name-Is," Stella growled, "And you're going to stop being so freaking aggravating."

Ooh, so scared.

**Enter Abby's Mind -Current-**

Oh crap. This is not good. This is _not _good at all.

"Hello?" A female voice called from the stairs, "Anyone else here?"

No. No one else is here, now go away.

"Hello?"

Get bent.

"Anyone?"

Leave us alone.

"If you can hear me, please speak up."

Not if you were dangling off the edge of a cliff.

I nudged Henry and he nodded through the darkness of the room, pushing me so that we now hid in a closet in our bedroom. He had his arms wrapped around me, his face buried in my hair. His breath was shallow and his cheek bruised, but that didn't matter. None of it would matter if we were figured out, found. They wouldn't arrest us, as there was no evidence to prove that we'd done anything (other than Jimmy's body, though I doubt they'd look past Wakefield for a suspect) but we wouldn't be here, and there would be hearings. It just... it wouldn't be right.

"Is this your room?" A voice asked as they entered the master bedroom.

"Wasn't the other room his room?"

"We don't use this place too much," He answered, hesitant and careful with his words. I cringed. God, that man could be dumb sometimes.

One of the girls neared the closet, our hiding place, but didn't actually see us before she could get out an inquisitive, "We?" and jump back, looking truly freaked out.

"Oh, wow, there you guys are," Sully winced and turned to the two girls in the room, smiling guiltily and adding a weak, "I see you've found my roommates."

* * *

**So, what did you think? Please tell me in the review button and let me know if you liked it or not. I wrote this chapter kinda fast because I've been really busy... Sorry! You guys always come first but I haven't slept in a good 24 hours. Uh-oh, right? Haha. I love you guys and even if you don't review, thanks for taking the time to read this because, as someone who loves writing, it means so much to me that you actually take the time to read my story. Thanks so much. If you have any suggestions, please let me know!! xoxo**

**K**


	7. How Many Sullys Does it Take?

_"You were the killer, weren't you?" The taller one, Amanda, asked my husband, eyes narrowing at him suspiciously, "You did it, right?"_

_He sighed, "Yes."_

_"Why?"_

_"To be with her," He mumbled, pulling me closer to his side, half-protective half-proving a point._

_Amanda pursed her lips together, but I could see she was trying not to smile, "You know we'll have to _arrest_ you, right?"_

_Stella looked up from her spot by the dinner we'd laid out for everyone, though I didn't quite know why we had, "Wha-?" She asked from the table, mouth full of spaghetti, "Why? I like them."_

_Amanda brought a hand to her forehead, "Will you listen?"_

_"Mhm," Stella nodded, her words contrary to her pasta-eating actions._

_"What if," I asked, a bit sneakily for my style, "What if we held you hostage?"_

_Stella giggled, and I could immediately tell that this girl was about as messed up as we were, "Sounds like fun. I've never been the _criminal _before..."_

_Amanda sighed in defeat and shrugged, "Fine."_

_"You're in?" The brunette asked, grinning._

_"Someone has to make sure you don't go and get yourself blown up," She responded, rolling her eyes, "So yeah, I'm in."_

---------

I woke up halfway through the afternoon the next day with an earsplitting headache, the two cops staying in our guest room momentarily erased from my thoughts. However, even once I'd remembered their semi-unwelcome presence, I couldn't have known that at that very moment, something so high school it fell beyond the category of "stupid" was taking place, one floor underneath me.

And it all started with a screwdriver. Or at least that's what he told us later on, shamefaced, as he retold his whole morning, simultaneously letting us in on how he screwed up the house's electricity.

I'm getting ahead of myself, though, I'll just start from the very beginning of my day, and in turn you'll find out how one immature blonde jackass singlehandedly undid God's own "let there be light." At least in the Dunn household.

The morning had never been a particularly clear-headed time for me, but this one in particular had my head spinning, my mind unsure of what was a dream, and what had actually happened the previous afternoon. I turned to the man next to me, his chestnut brown hair falling messily into his face, eyes closed and lips partly open, breathing in tune with the steady rise and fall of his chest. I just stared at him for a few minutes, unable to find the will to wake him up while he looked so peaceful, so calm, so absolutely perfect. While I watched him, I thought of a month ago, how I had been so unsure of what to do when he'd asked me to trust him after he'd _killed _everyone I'd loved, not to forgive him, but to give him time, and to stay with him on the island.

Forever.

I couldn't bring myself to regret a thing, though, as I smiled at how his fingers still managed to close around my own, even in his sleep. He was my life now, the only life that mattered to me. He _was _my forever. And that was all that mattered.

"That's kind of creepy, you know," Henry told me, eyes still closed as a teasing smile made its way onto the formerly relaxed line of his lips.

I gasped, surprised at how awake he sounded, "How long have you been awake?"

"Long enough to know you've been staring at me for _quite _sometime," he responded smoothly.

Tilting my head to the side, I remarked, "But you're eyes were closed..."

"Yes, but Abbs, you're kind of an intense starer," He chuckled now, flipping me over so that I was now on my back, his face hovering inches from mine, eyes still shut tight, "You're easy to find, too," He breathed, before capturing my lips with his, "See?"

"Mhmm," I responded, now in a bit of a daze from how he could always seem to get me with things like that, and it wasn't just his kiss. It was the feeling of his breath on my face, his hand behind my head which at times felt like the one thing holding me up, the way his lips would curve into that teasing smile right before he'd finally pull my face to his, as if he were mocking all of everything that hadn't wanted us together. Because we were. Whether they liked it or not. It was his eyes that really got me, though, the way they could just melt into mine like they never wanted to break that gaze.

I frowned, realizing now that his eyes were _still _closed, "Henry?"

"Hmm?"

I could feel the pout on my face, though I refused to acknowledge it, "Open your eyes."

He did no later than I'd reached the end of the sentence, and his lips were on mine again, like he never wanted the kiss to end. And hey, who's arguing?

Apparently Sully.

"AHHHH!" Someone screamed from downstairs and Henry groaned, pushing himself off of me and pulling on a pair of sweatpants. It was Stella who had made the noise, I guessed, judging by the way it was followed by a sharp slapping noise. Stella had a nasty habit of hitting Sully whenever he did something that, by everyones' but his terms, was considered pervish, idiotic, or sometimes even pervishly idiotic. Not that I'd never done it before or that everyone else never wanted to, but you got used to his never-grew-up behavior after a while.

As it happens, it hadn't been Stella, but Amanda who had decided to up and slap our dear Sully right across the face. They now appeared to be in a heated argument, Amanda ranting on about something he'd done while Sully, not to be outdone, made loud noises and moved his hands in exaggerated motions as mockery.

"What happened?" Henry asked, but his voice was drowned out in the fight, which had now progressed into something of a more violent nature as Amanda now whipped out her tazer, and on a very low level of electricity, began zapping him repeatedly, actions to which he swore loudly and obnoxiously.

"SHUT UP!" I yelled after several minutes in shock, simply watching the scene before me.

They turned to me, eyes wide and each began explaining their side of the story to me, each trying to talk faster and louder than the other. I took a deep breath and closed my eyes briefly, repeating the same words I'd used only moments ago, but louder.

That quieted them immediately.

"What happened?" I asked through gritted teeth, and they both began talking again, "Amanda." I clarified over what couldbe more distinguishable as noise than actual talking. Sully pouted while Amanda gave him that almost sibling-like look of gloating.

"So," She started, "I was in Stella and I's room, sleeping, until I heard this _huge _bang from the other side of the wall," She gave a pointed look at Sully before continuing her side of the story, "I woke up and then, of course, the painting above my bed _fell _on me. I swear, Stella woke up swearing we were in the middle of an earthquake," Stella nodded at this, confirming it to be true, "Naturally, I got up to figure out what the hell was going on, and I found this idiot," She jerked a thumb at Sully, "Trying to bang through my wall with a screw driver. Well, I got pissed off and went over to give him a piece of my mind but _obviously _I was too late because he had to go and turn his big, stupid head and the next thing I know, there's no more light in the freaking house."

I looked around, realizing she was right. The only way I could see anything now was by the daylight that filtered in through the windows. Everything else had appeared to have gone out.

Sully sighed, "If _you _hadn't made me look away, maybe we wouldn't be in this mess."

"If you hadn't been trying to drill a hole in our wall with a tool for opening the backs of remote controls, I wouldn't have made you look away, dumb-"

"Well, if you hadn't-"

"If you had-"

"Oh my God, please just shut up," Stella hissed, looking up from her spot with her head in her hands, "You've been driving me insane all morning. Just PLEASE be quiet."

I nodded in agreement with her, taking a seat on the couch, "Listen, I don't care who did it- although Sully, if you don't stop being a pervert, I'm going to make you find a different house to live in- All I know is that someone has to fix it."

Everyone stared around the room, eyes falling on every member of the household before landing on two very unlucky recipients.

* * *

Five hours later, Henry and I stood in the middle of a huge ditch, dug up by, yours truly, us two.

"Should've killed him when I had the chance," Henry muttered, sending dirt up and flying behind him as he brought his shovel back. I laughed softly at his sick joke, so tired I was almost giddy now.

Pushing my oversized gardening tool, my now _least _favorite item on this island, once again, under a large clump of dirt, sighing, finally, at the gratifying clank it made as it hit the metal power generator. Why my family had chosen to _bury _our power source, I'll never quite understand. What I do know, is that they did, and I had finally found it.

"Got it," I exhaled, wiping a few beads of sweat off my forehead with a particularly soil-stained hand. I was never the prissy type, but this, _this _was hell, I'm sure, even for the most boyish of tomboys out there. Henry, just as filthy and exhausted as I was, scooped me up in a tight hug and planted a kiss on my forehead, happy to finally be done with the manual labor.

"It might be safe to say I love you even _more _now," He chuckled, brushing the brown soil away from the surface of the large, metal object. After a few flips of switches, and a few knob turns, followed by a jump start from his car, the small clear beads protruding from the shell lit up and began to blink, a mechanical hum echoing from inside its iron belly.

I heard a few happy whoops from inside the house and, with a bit of self-pride, noticed that our guests must have noticed our success in bringing light back to the house as well, "Thank God," I muttered as Henry's arm wrapped around me, pulling me tightly, as it always did, to his side. He laughed and kissed the top of my head, I ignored the few crumbs of dirt that fell in front of me. We walked through the door and I grinned at the group, who were all waiting for us in the living room, smiles plastered to their faces.

"Thank you for undoing his retard actions," Stella giggled, ignoring my condition and throwing her arms around my shoulders.

Sully glared at her bug congratulated us nonetheless, "Yeah, thanks for... Thanks for cleaning up my mess," He thanked us sheepishly, patting each of our grimy shoulders, "You guys are the best."

Amanda was next, she smiled at each of us warmly, although she opted not to touch us, "You guys are pretty awesome for not... for not kicking his ass." Henry chuckled at her response and I just nodded, though I wondered for a moment why we _hadn't _kicked his ass. We'd have to save that for later.

"So..." Sully smirked, scooting closer to Amanda who instinctively recoiled, "Who wants to play a game?"

I rolled my eyes, "You're such a five year old."

"How about pictionary?" He said the words as if trying to tempt us. I almost snorted, ha. Good luck with that.

I spoke up, finally deciding to give up my pride for a moment and become the 'mom' of the house, "How about we _don't_ and maybe eat dinner?"

"Sounds good."

"I want raviolis!"

"I'll help out."

"Do I get to sit next to Amanda?"

Everyone silenced at this comment, and I stared at Sully for a good minute before turning my gaze on Amanda, who seemed to be a bit taken back, "Fine," she sighed, pushing herself off the couch and taking a seat at the dining room table, while Sully rushed to its neighbor.

"Yes," he grinned and attempted to drape his arm over her shoulder, which she, in turn, threatened to stab with the fork, though she didn't do anything about it and his arm remained on the outside of her chair, around her in a weird kind of way.

Stella got up next and skipped over to the table, taking the chair on her friend's other side.

I turned to Henry, a smirk was set firmly on his face and his arms were crossed over his chest, "Wow."

"What?"

"He's almost as bad as I was."

* * *

**Okay, so there's chapter 5!!! Sorry, I haven't updated in forever. Lots and lots to do! Haha. I love you guys and want all your opinions on my first un-shocking chapter... It was basically made to show the relationships here. ;) **

**Anyway, I hope you guys keep reading (and thank you for doing so) and I'll do my best to update more frequently.**

**XOXO,**

**-K**


	8. Don't Read if You Hate Author's Notes

**Ah, I hate author notes... So, I'm sorry to be writing one. Really, please find it in your hearts to forgive me.**

**Here's my excuse:**

**I've been at fashion camp. Yes, fashion camp. In the city.**

**Sounds glam, right? That's what I thought.... Nope. It's very hardcore and much harder than I thought. We have homework and everything. I love it, though, and am kinda extremely serious about it- Call me loser, right? Sorry!!!**

**Anyway, I'll probably write the next chapter this weekend, when I don't have my design classes...**

**Once again: I don't think I can say it enough but I'm really really sorry!!!  
Lovee you guys!**

**(If you don't mind cursing and PG13 stuff, I strongly suggest Shane Dawson's videos on youtube. Just type in "Shane Dawson TV" and his channel will pop up. He is soo talented and I have a strong feeling he's gonna be someone someday. ;) so check it out. This dude rocks my socks. My white tube socks.... Okay, how bout saying he's just perfect.**

**Just.**

**Amazing.**

**Ugh, I feel creepy now...**

**Wow, I'm ranting so I'll talk to you guys latahh ;)**


	9. So Different It's The Same

**Hi everyone, **

**Sorry I've been a while. The story's shorter than my others but I hope you like it. I'm sorry its one day late!!! I totally lost track of time.**

**Hope you like it!!!**

* * *

I woke up the next morning, as most mornings, to the brittle silence of the morning. A silence, it had seemed lately, could be easily shattered by one of many things. There was Sully's recklessness, Stella's spastic-ness, and Amanda's pure morning-person-ness, a trait that at times made me annoyed at so much as not letting Henry kill her. That was just when I woke up, though, other than that she was my sister, one of my two only female companions.

And, now more than ever, I _needed_ companions.

Henry had been... distant, recently. No, not distant. There was another word for it, one that almost brought me to tears to associate with my husband, the man who had sacrificed so much to have us here, together. Depression. I noticed with the prickling behind my eyes that had become associated with Henry's sadness that the love of my life now sat, hunched over, at the edge of the bed with his head buried in his hands, his shoulders heaving with silent sobs as the tears I couldn't see made their stealthy way through the cracks in his fingers. I didn't know how long he'd been there, and it didn't matter. The only thing that meant anything to me at all was the pain. _His _pain.

I lay there a moment longer, the conflict of what to do embedded deep in my mind.

_Do I ignore it?_

_Do I wait it out?_

_Do I just _stay _here while my husband tears himself to bits?_

Of course not.

I pushed myself up and slid myself over to the spot next to him, wrapping my arms around his shoulders and letting him lean his head into the crook of my neck, sending salty teardrops running down the length of my collarbone. I moved my hand to his hair, moving stray strands from his face and back behind his ear. My other hand was held tightly by his broken one, and I thought at once of how his fingers must have hurt to keep mine locked in such a simple, affectionate gesture.

"I love you," I whispered into his hair, repeating words that always brought a smile to his face, words of reminder, a reminder not to give up on us. On anything. Unlike the other times, however, his charactered grin did not split across his face, but the corners of his lips hinted up in an almost unnoticeable trace of happiness.

"I love you too," He said back, hoarsely. His voice was empty, hollow, filled with so much grief that it coated his tone even when he said nothing. He didn't have to.

After a moment of silence, he pushed himself upright, his red, tearstained eyes staring unwaveringly into mine, "Abby..." He croaked, not bothering to wipe away the tears that fell down his face and dripped from his dark lashes, "What have I _done_?"

I pursed my lips, brushing his tears away with my sleeve, "I don't know, Henry," I couldn't help but to smile a bit at his return of emotion, "But it's going to be okay."

He shook his head, his hair fanning around his head like a messy, brown halo, "No, Abby," He brought a hand to his face, stretching it across his eyes so that each side touched a temple, he looked unnerved, scared even, "Abby, I _killed,_" He whispered, his face contorted with self-hate, "I _murdered. _I murdered our friends, our family... They're really gone, aren't they?"

I frowned at him, he was right. I couldn't argue, he had, in fact, done the unspeakable. I opened and closed my mouth, unsure of any words I could use to make him feel better.

"They would understand."

I didn't know where the words came from, but they seemed right. I tried to think on a single guest who wouldn't have forgiven Henry, or at the very least accepted it and tried to see reason. The only person who came to mind was Mr. Wellington, and honestly, who gave a crap about his opinion? Besides, they were in heaven now. They would get it. I was sure they would.

Henry, who had been cheered only slightly by my words--they were only words, after all-- leaned back into me as I rubbed my hands up and down the length of his back, hoping that maybe actions could console him where words had, to a large extent, failed. He wasn't crying anymore and I wasn't sure if he was feeling better or had simply run out of tears to shed. I pressed my lips to his forehead, "Shh," I cooed softly, "Shh... It's all going to be okay. It'll be alright."

It was no later than Henry had lifted his still-damp face that the fragile silence was broken.

And so began our day.

* * *

"Morning, Sully," I greeted the blonde with a smile and wave. He smiled back and pointed--behind a raised hand-- at Amanda, who I realized with a slight giggle had a post-it stuck to her back. Henry even let out a light chuckle at the elementary-school-level prank.

'Beware Betty Bed-head' the note read in large writing, clearly visible even from our position in the living room. She spun around, alerted by our laughing and snapped, "What?"

Not one to be cruel, I pointed at her back. She rolled her eyes and pulled off the small square of yellow paper with a soft tearing noise, holding it up to her eyes before reading it. The writing had an almost immediate effect over her, causing a faint pink color to coat her cheeks and her glare to settle on Sully, who I noticed was hiding, now, behind the sofa, crouching so that only the tip of his gelled blonde hair was visible.

"Muffin, there you are!" He cried, picking up the inflatable, semi-clothed doll from the floor while Amanda stared at him hopelessly, as to anyone less than brain damaged, he seemed a lost cause.

He cleared his throat, the teasing smile back on his face, "Stella, Amanda, I would like you to meet Muffin. Henry and Abby are already very well acquainted with her presence and have come to love her as a..."

"Delusional friend's girlfriend," I smirked, playing along. He laughed and gave me a thumbs up.

"Her breasts are rubber... You know what I mean," Henry added dryly, which brought on another chorus of laughter. Sully, not to be outdone, held up a warning finger to his mouth.

"Shh," He shushed us, "The surgery is a sensitive subject."

"Poppable, even," I added and Henry, with renewed cheerfulness, wrapped an arm around me and grinned. Stella was clutching her sides, and I wondered for a moment if anyone had put something in her drink... That was just her personality, though. Something I had gotten used to. Amanda was staring incredulously at the girl, though she couldn't keep a smile form slicing across her own face, and before she knew it, she too was giggling at her friend's giddiness.

I shook my head, all hope for any sort of future sanity disappearing before my very eyes.

"Okay," I grinned at them, guiding Henry to the kitchen, "Who wants breakfast?"

They silenced at that. What do you know? Food might have been the only thing able to shut up both sane _and _crazy people. Which was a concept even weirder than those that surrounded me.

* * *

"We should do something," Christopher Sullivan, Sully, moaned, his head lolling against a cushion, "I mean, it's been days--_weeks__-- since we actually did __anything_."

And for the first time in his life, he may have had a point. We _hadn't _done much recently. Outside the house, that is. Inside we were often occupied with sleeping, playing games, or simply talking and laughing amongst ourselves. Fun, right?

You'd be surprised by how long it had kept us provided with entertainment. Here's a hint: longer than two weeks, shorter than two weeks and two days. Trouble?

Anyway, after much debate, we decided the best idea would be to just go out and play in the same park we'd hang at as high schoolers, throwing frisbees, gossiping, playing games of wiffle ball and soccer... I mean, we might as well, right? It seemed like one of the best ideas yet and was, once again, ironically thought of by none other than Sully the charming three-quarter wit. He had more than half... He just didn't use it.

* * *

Amanda and Stella were throwing a head-sized yellow disc between them while Sully and Henry and I played a three-one-man-teams version of football. I'd had an advantage over the two from the second I'd joined, as they had each, to my advantage, clearly forgotten both sophomore and junior years, where I'd spent a good amount of time rubbing their faces in the dirt. They, though, apparently felt that automatically, with me being a girl, I would have to be treated carefully. They never tackled me, didn't dare to push me, and felt the only reasonable way of getting the ball was to knock it out of my hands.

It wasn't until the fourth rematch-- I'd won all games previous-- that they fully started to understand the potential threat I posted against them in their "manly sport world". After successfully tackling Henry to the ground and, with a quick peck on the lips, taking the ball from his hand and throwing it through the arch of three branches that served as a makeshift goal, causing Sully to swear and Henry wipe the dirt off his face, they swore to stop treating me like such a doll and actually _play the game_.

'Finally,' I thought with a roll of my eyes, 'a _real _challenge.'

Henry and I squared off, neither of us able to keep our faces stern and serious, every time he or I would make an attempt at appearing stoic and emotionless, the other would laugh and the normal expressions would be back again.

"3...2...1," Stella shouted from her imaginary stands in one of the lower trees, "GO!"

Sully surged forward, grabbing the ball from Henry's hand and taking off in the wrong direction. Everyone stopped. Everyone stared. However, while everyone seemed to be watching in unison, no one actually felt the urge to speak up. And so we didn't.

"Isn't someone going to run after me!?" Sully yelled out, frustrated, as he continued to run left, instead of towards his goal.

"Why should we!?" I called back, "You aren't making any goals any time soon!"

He appeared confused for a moment, "I resent tha- oh."

"Yeah," Henry grinned as his friend came charging back, football tucked safely under his shoulder, "This should be fun."

Sully, a new strategy in mind, rammed right through us, where we'd thought he'd slow down, "Victory!" He yelled out, laughing as he touched-down, finally, in his own goal, "What now, guys? I just beat your sorry selves," He threw the pigskin back to me and turned to Amanda, "So, now that I'm a champion and all, I was thinking..."

She rolled her eyes at him and smacked him on the head, but didn't say no. And, in my opinion, that was a huge mistake.

"So, I'll take it as a yes then?"

And there's why.

He grabbed her hand, then, and she didn't pull away, but actually moved closer, allowing him to play with her fingers as we headed back towards the house. I smiled at the two, as I had done not even two nights ago.

Henry, not to be shown up, wrapped an arm around my waist and pulled me to him, his lips gently brushing mine. I ran a hand through his hair and he whispered the three words that always made everything better. He then, not even so much as removing his arm from its spot around my waist, as we walked back home together, following our three house-mates.

I grinned up at him and he mirrored the action, and I could almost swear I saw Amanda and Sully do the same, though for less time.

Wow.

I guess opposites really do attract.

And we had two cases to prove it.

* * *

**I'm so so so sorry!! I know, this is a day late- I finished it at 4:00 last night-morning, because I realized I forgot, then fell asleep at the computer and slept until 4:00 in the afternoon!! Please forgive me! I feel super-bad especially because this isn't the longest chapter I've written. At all.**

**Anyway, I really love you guys.**

**XOXO,**

**K**


	10. AN: MY DILEMA! reader help needed ASAP

**I. Have. A dilemma.**

**See, it seems as though I have absolutely nothing else to add. I've been thinking for a while and the most space I can actually fill is, like, two pages before realizing that I've basically given the story a happy END. So, tell me, should I end it here or keep going? I've actually been pretty hung over on "A Haunting In CT" with Jonah (You know, the realllllllyyyy hott ghost) and want to give him his happy ending too!! So, what do you say, should I continue on this or start on some new stuff?**

**Thanks for the help!! :)**

**- XOXO,**

**Kay**


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